ElFewja
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2007
- Messages
- 1,296
- Points
- 38
Pit of Penance 2 – */F feet
An hour. She had lived through many, taken them for granted, whittling away the time here, kicking around on the streets over there, gazing at the stars on some lost wooded hill. The recollection played before her when, on a whim, she swiped an apple from a vacant stall on a moonlit night when she wasn't hungry. A guard had seen her and taken her custody, into the cavernous depths below the city and the tree. The stories played through her mind as did the cries of the maidens from the top side of the well but she thought herself better, stronger.
An hour. The first sensation of the slime on her wrist cut through her, piercing her like a venomous knife that carved its volatile medicine into her. That was when she knew, that was when she regretted stepping free of her boots. But the hour didn't start then, nor did it start when the slime first crawled down the bottoms of her bound soles. The sensation burned like bursting star-fire and it felt as though she walked on dandelion seeds that constantly exploded against her while at the same time the sucking sensation of the sticky substance clung to her no matter how she struggled. Then her toes dipped into the pool and her eyes blasted open. She threw away her pride then, screaming at the top of her lungs for mercy though she knew she would never receive it.
An hour. After she had submerged to her neck she knew the time had begun, she could feel every single grain in the hourglass, feel it with her entire soul as she laughed, cried and screamed. Each second felt like a life time, a life time spent studying each individual sensation that the slime willed onto her. It felt like pure life rippled into her body, as though the entire world pulsed against her, commanding her to laugh, and she obeyed. She could see and feel each and every other woman that had come before, each one stabbing at her one at a time and weaving their own ticklishness into her. It felt as though she dipped her feet into hellfire, the flames licking up her soles and smiling wickedly at her suffering.
Her sense of the world vanished, but she knew herself then to be a sobbing mess, humbled and humiliated. The entire city listened to her screams through the well, her voice carrying along the streets and into the alleyways. As she walked the streets on that silver-flooded night, too embarrassed to show her face during the day, she felt the onlookers through the candle lit windows and the eyes of the shadowy figures at the edges of the streets. They knew, they knew of her and her weaknesses.
She remembered nothing of the dredging, of her salvation from the pool, but she knew her saviors to be boot-clad women, former victims. Somehow she knew they watched her hungrily, and even now she could sense their voracious appetite as they held her down and scrubbed her clean, returning the slime to the puddle. A shiver rolled down her spine as she felt the haunting melody of the slime's slobbering touch rolling over her body, slurping along her feet and squishing under her toes. The haunting memory of it spilling up her legs and rubbing between her thighs, and the thick ooze clinging across her stomach and rib cage while wiggling beneath and around her breasts and squirming up and down her arms played against her over and over. A shuddering laugh formed in her lips and she brought her arms over her as she cowered in the street, huffing out laughter as the jiggling rhythm played over her body again.
There was a great darkness after, and when she woke in a repurposed cell deep within those forgotten mines she only saw a strand of moonlight resting on her boots. They shifted unevenly, sloshing about as though filled with water. She knew, but her skin ached with an unnatural icy chill and called to her to put them on, that they would protect her. She recalled the thick puddle of the green goop that she had thrust her foot into and how it soothed her aches even though it tickled maddeningly, how it reassured her and welcomed her back. Then she put on the second boot and was at peace with the world, her consciousness melting with the cosmos.
But those times were gone and she was returned to the streets above, to the gaping eyes of those that knew of her plight, their smiling eyes mocking her for her weakness. Drawing in breath after ragged breath, she stalked the streets, rubbing goosebumps off of her arms despite the thick summer air. Her whole body jingled with the music of the underworld, and she could feel its call for her to return in the back of her mind. With bowed head she pressed onward as though she walked in a blizzard, shirking off her pulsing, throbbing body while her feet cried in agony with each step.
At long last she passed the circular town center and she saw the moonlit stockade, the sight of which almost brought her to her knees. It felt as though she were starved of life and that the wooden instrument glowed like an oasis in those shimmer pearlescent rays. She could feel the voice of its promises, and before long she found herself barefoot, her discarded boots missing from sight as the wood clicked shut around her.
The tickling sensations prickled against her bare soles and she laughed endlessly for her crimes as various tormentors passed by, taking their time to hone their craft while they in turn honed her. A ravenous, blinding pleasure oozed through her, sparkling like star-fire as she danced about in the little prison that held her precious feet still for her interrogators. Those shadowy fiends that would ask of her a hundred questions and more, laughing at her inability to withhold her secrets, mocking her for telling them just how to best tickle her: to carefully stroke her arches and swipe at her toes, to dig their fingertips into the centers of her feet and to run their nails over her heels. Again and again she gave herself up, begging to be the personal tickle slave of every one that touched her feet. A deep, burning humiliation rippled within her at her weakness while a supreme satisfaction overwhelmed her at the thought of her former friends taking absolute control over her.
As they dominated her senses, filling her with their personal lust and cruel punishments she pulled herself upward in the stockade, tugging wildly with her legs. The memories played before her countless times, and as they touched her feet she felt their skin morph into the gooey sensation of the slime. Trapped within her dreamworld, she felt herself screaming out sinister laughter as they took advantage of her bound nature, her squirming soles unable to escape their wrath and her body feeble before their touch.
But the play time of the night ended and she was left alone, cold and exhausted while the haunting melody from below whispered in her ears. With all of her skin she could feel the ghostly memories of the slime call for her return, summoning her to rejoin it. As she staggered out of the stockade and into her boots she felt her legs carry her onward, towards one of the shadowy stone archways that dipped into the earth below. Behind her she heard the hard clamor of a brass bell as it clanged at the hour, her heart sinking with each sullen beat as she marched onward.
As she sped down the narrow passage she felt the air grow thick and heavy. Thin strands of green mist snaked through the air and she felt her boots grow heavy with each step. Before long the strands became long tendrils, then thick coiling mists that pawed at her from every angle. Shivering, she felt chains wrap around her heart, pulling her chest ever onward through the darkness until she saw a great emerald light appear below her.
A long bridge spanned before her, and she felt her skin crawl while the soles of her feet chirped wildly. Crossing her arms tightly, she coiled herself together and lowered her head, speeding across the stones and past the haunting glow of the grass colored flames as the need to strip herself of her clothing began to scratch at the back of her mind. Hurrying onward, she saw a shadow move in the central chamber, the pit of torture.
Slowing as she neared the entrance, she stopped for a moment, curling her toes within her boots as her feet screamed for her to move forward. Foggy doubt slipped over her mind like a veil, and she edged her foot back as a flash of white appeared floating before her, then another and another. Spreading their arms apart, the dredgers swayed forward from the shadows, their pale skin breaking through their night colored cloaks.
Over long, grueling instants she heard the crack of their boots against the stones as two approached her, their hoods drawn over their faces so that their eyes remained unseen. They stepped on either side of her and placed a hand each on her backside, ushering her forward. Her own boots carried her too eagerly, and as she entered hot air sprayed over her while the thick mists spilled from the pit. Ahead, she saw the light of the moon glitter down the glistening chain that dipped into the abyss below.
Several other shadows shifted about nervously, their dark fabrics wavering over the tips of black boots. Three women stood by the pit, the hems of their cloaks raised slightly, revealing their very bare feet and their painted nails. The bricks around them shimmered with light, and of the three two stood very still while the toes of the woman to her right twitched, flicked and curled. She shifted about, pressing one foot over the other, a flicker of light shining against her skin and a light colored footprint surrounded by sparkling dampness where she had stood.
She felt the chains around her heart clatter and the fingers of the women that held her shoulders tighten. They pushed ever so lightly and she obeyed, collapsing to her knees. Like candles, a smile flickered onto the face of each woman one at a time, the lips of the barefoot women curling and coiling erratically. Clenching the toes of her topmost foot over the one she stood on, the one barefoot woman wavered then sucked in air, her teeth twitching in the darkness. The hoods of the boot clad women turned towards her, their smiles widening, but then they brushed past the woman and stepped towards her cowering form.
The two women at her own sides traced their fingers down her arms, then wrapped their hands around her wrists, tugging them outward so that her arms formed a upside down v. With several sloshing clicks the boots of the other women approached, two wrapping behind her while two stood in front of her. The skin of her feet buzzed and prattled but she fought off snickering as the women pulled and plucked at her clothing. Hands pressed around her ankles and she felt her boots slide away, the tops of her toes settling against the cool bricks. Immediately she felt naked and helpless, her body drained of her strength with the baring of her soles, her heart skipping along a pond as the same smile the dredgers wore bore itself onto her lips.
Ahead of her the barefoot woman swayed her hips, her toes pointing up and away from the floor. Throwing her head upward, her hood fell away, revealing her golden hair and lovingly carved face as lightning bolted across her eyes. Shrieking wildly, she dug her fingers into her cheeks as she stamped her other foot down, lifting the leg she had stood on before flicking her ankle wildly, casting her foot this way and that. A thick globule of the slime clung to her sole, jiggling as she attempted to cast it off.
Just as the women pulled her shirt from her one stepped away and coddled her arms around the dancing woman's shoulders. The other two barefoot women uneasily stepped towards her, walking on the balls of their feet as they swept around the pit. One slipped a glove over her hand then reached for the slick chain while the others twisted the bucking, laughing woman's backside to the steel. In the blink of an eye her wrists were bound above her, her body secured to the chain before wrapping it around her ankles. They lifted her, they set her over the pit, and then one knelt down, tying a string around both of her big toes before letting the weight drag her feet downward.
Reaching into her sleeve, the dredger's that knelt at her feet cupped the tops of the woman's feet towards her, then withdrew a curious instrument from her garment. Swirling a brush head against the globule that stuck to the shrieking woman's foot, she spun the device to her clean foot and painted a curving insignia into her arch. As the brush swept and crawled against her skin, the woman's jaw dropped and she howled wildly. Releasing the woman's feet, the dredger with the brush stood back while slime oozed down the chains and over the bound woman's wrists. Within several seconds the woman bound to the chain began to sway, causing her body to dip down into the hole, towards the pit.
As the women returned their attention to her, they stripped her of her leggings, baring her body to the quivering darkness. One of the woman solemnly walked past her, her clothes bundled up in her arms with her boots over top. She stepped towards the pit, stopping with each step and drawing her feet together before taking the next, and as she arrived towards the pit she spread her arms away, letting the clothes fall into the sludge below. A distant schlock echoed through the chamber and at once her heart grew wings, a sense of lightness and freedom filling her.
The women stepped before her, fanning out while the two that held her arms brought her wrists together. The women formed a V shape towards her, and the woman that stood directly before her withdrew a length of black cloth. As rope nipped at her wrists, the cloth sped towards her eyes while the other women withdrew their own brushes, curious two handled devices that met at the ends, leaving a gap between the dual handles and the twin brush heads. Darkness wrapped around her eyes, then she felt her ankles pulled back, baring her soles for all to see while rope chomped above her heels, binding them together.
A sudden thrill ran between her toes and she sniffed loudly while string wrapped between her big toes. Helplessness flooded her while a sense of knowledge filled her; her body was a lock that contained her soul and the women before her, the dredgers, were all too familiar with the ways to pick it open regardless of the fact that they had the key. In front of her she heard a sticky splash and then the echoing cries of laughter scale all around her. They would take their time knowing her, understanding and studying her, before allowing her into their ranks.
Before she even had time to test her bonds, to know their limits, she felt her body compelled to do so. As though goosebumps ran over the soles of her feet, sucking it upward, she felt the attack before it happened. The brush, slick with the forbidden tree sap, scraped over her from the ball of her foot to the outer edge of her heel. Dropping her jaw, she screamed in agony, twisting her head and writhing in place as she tugged at her wrists and twisted her ankles back and forth. A second passed and the sensation subsided, brushed away by a sickly sweet sensation.
Dropping her head forward, she gasped and gulped in air, her hair falling around her cheeks as she recalled the look of the brushes. Her mental image was shattered by a second swirl that crept over the heel of her other foot before swinging up the outside, curling inward and under the ball. Again she screamed loudly, her voice tearing at her throat as she spilled it over the bricks below her. Within seconds she was silent, her calls echoing upward, mirroring the the cries of the maiden whose feet sat submerged in her undoing.
As she clenched her toes, feeling them collapse in a wave, she felt the wrinkles of her soles course over her very clean bare feet. The chains around her heart turned an icy-obsidian as the fangs of dread set into the back of her neck, and for several long seconds she saw the image of the brushes again as she squirmed her feet back and forth on the bricks. As she lay, the otherworldly sensations still prickling at her feet, she huffed out several strained hee-hee-hee's while she focused on the memory of the dual brush heads. Clutching her hands into fists, she inhaled heavily as she understood the initiation: only one brush was dipped into the terrible substance. She would feel the slime, understand it, appreciate it. They would let her sample it for a moment and then clean it away so that she could remain lucid, so that she could comprehend the fullness of the torture.
She recalled the many times she had passed the well in her former life, above the ground, and how there was always someone screaming below, begging, pleading, confessing their sins. She heard their voices again, and she remembered wondering how many people committed crimes to hear them scream day after day, but then she realized that the voice would remain static for weeks, months, and she wondered at what crimes the accused had committed. She felt her own confessions bubbling along her tongue while tears well up in her eyes as they let her languish for several long moments, the sobs of joy choking in her throat.
For long minutes she waited, sitting there there, crying for her former self, crying for her defenseless bare feet, wondering if they would ever return to her. Still, as the minutes dragged on, only the crazed cries of the bound maiden remained, her body overwhelmed by the pit consuming her wicked nature. She sat there, curling her toes, spreading them apart, wondering how long they would leave her before the assault began. Sweat beaded up all over her body, a drop spiraling down her nose as the heat of desire throbbed within her. She felt the longing, she felt the pool below calling to her, and she could distantly sense the slime fixed to the brushes as the women stood around her, waiting for her. She shut her jaw, gulped and nodded, immediately feeling the cosmic starlight of the slime set in around her.
She shrieked, she screamed, she laughed. The strokes were soft and sudden, quick to crash into her then rise away, yet falling in perfect rhythm so that the instant one ended another began. The attacks came from all sides, streaking along a foot and then up a leg, across her torso or under a breast, down her arms or inside of her navel. Through the darkness it felt as though a ghost taunted her, disappearing and reappearing with its wicked weapon.
The touch was so soft, so supple and so wonderful: it felt like icicles dripped across her then vanished immediately, but her body remembered. Her whole body pulsed and throbbed with the forbidden starlight they imbued her with. Yet despite the damp, caring kisses they imprinted into her, the slime cut through her, piercing deep to the core of her being and filling her with a gem-like radiance, and before she even became aware of the crevice it was stitched shut, the sensation forever buried beneath her skin. Even after the slime left her skin continued to tingle.
Thrashing back and forth she attempted to rip herself free, to fall forward, to cover or protect herself in some way, but she was laid bare before them. Her feet could wiggle back and forth but she couldn't cover them, her arms could sway up and down but she couldn't pull them away. Her legs, trapped beneath her body, felt the brunt of the attack and her shoulders and neck were left as defenseless. Then they started moving two at a time, encircling her breasts over and over, drawing tiny circles under them before swiping suddenly upward and across her nipples.
At the same time they toiled over her feet, tending to them with great love and adoration. Her toes had been fully painted several times over, and she sensed every wrinkle, every indent in her foot throbbing with their love. Several outlines wrapped around her feet, dipping into her arches, sometimes around the outer edge of her heels and balls and sometimes around the inner. Great streaks marred the centers of her soles as they ensured those crevices suffered greatly for their beauty.
She begged, over and over, her body incapable of handling the wicked light that shook within her, but still they continued. She confessed to everything she could think of, every crime she had committed or imagined committing, everything that had ever been done. Then they asked her where it tickled most, and where to tickle her next, and this too, she bargained away. She felt her grip on reality begin to slip, and they slowed, ensuring that she would remain fully conscious of what they inflicted onto her before speeding up again.
Before long her whole body shook and shivered with the pent up bliss and happiness that they infused her with, and soon after they added a third continuous attack to her inner thighs. Her mind flit back and forth between her feet, her breasts and her thighs, unable to track the beginning and ending of the sensations. Every now and then she felt the waning light of the laughter inducing medicine nip at her ears and neck, down her elbows or on the back of her calves. Then, as one claimed her navel for perhaps the hundredth time there was silence save her echoing cries and the pleading for mercy of the maiden in the pit.
Seconds passed, boots shuffled and cloth swished. She twisted her head about as she scoured the darkness, her damp hair clinging to her face and her heart slamming into her chest as she gasped for air, her body trembling with their will. In the quiet darkness she felt a wet dot press into the center of her back, and then a second and a third. Collapsing forward, she fell into something soft as they marked her back with four, then five streaks, their snail like trails vanishing as soon as they appeared. Alternating her hips, she shifted her ankles back and forth as she endured the trial, her tears soaking the blindfold as she wept profusely.
The warmth she lay against pushed into her and she felt herself set upright as the siren's kiss landed against her big toe, then down the stem and into her arch. A second claimed her other foot, and she shrieked while the dampness left her back and returned to her breasts and thighs. Now the brushes moved as one, stroking her in the same patterns so that her mind lit up like a treasure map formed of the constellations. Her laughter fell and she inhaled wildly, moaning loudly, feeling her body take on a golden aura before the light within her burst outward.
Still they continued, their attacks greedier than before as she gasped and howled, her body no longer capable of registering the ticklishness she endured. She felt herself fall forward and she knew her body coiled together, tucking her knees up into her stomach, but even then they fell onto her feet, coating them over and over with their affection, permanently scarring her soles with their love while she fell deeper into the blissful void.
Before she knew it she awoke from the dream, her body laying their, abused and defeated, her limbs so heavy she could barely lift them. Lift them she did, and she felt the rope slip away from her wrists, then her ankles as she shuffled them. Pushing herself up, she sat upon her knees and withdrew the blindfold from her eyes, blinking into the quiet and vacant darkness. Just ahead of her, a robe of sooty black lay folded into a serene square. As her eyes lay upon it a ray of sunlight sparked off the chain before her and she flinched, shielding herself from the blinding daylight.
Blinking several times, her eyes adjusted and she felt her feet force her upright before staggering forward. No, she thought as she approached the chain and wrapped her ankles to it. The voice of the slime scratch warmly at the back of her ears, beseech with her to join it. As she secured her wrists to the chain, she felt her mind beg and plead with her, but only a sinister smile responded to it. Finally fastened to the devil's chain, she stepped off the platform, feeling the slime ooze down her fingers and over her wrists. The biting, gnawing sensations began again, and she began inhaling rapidly as the drops trickled downward. Around her the world rose and she felt her weight pull her down. The heavy green substance clung to the back of her calves, dripping down and dangling over her ankles. Rotating her feet she felt a wicked chuckle escape her lips as she looked at the pool of slime below.
An hour. She had lived through many, taken them for granted, whittling away the time here, kicking around on the streets over there, gazing at the stars on some lost wooded hill. The recollection played before her when, on a whim, she swiped an apple from a vacant stall on a moonlit night when she wasn't hungry. A guard had seen her and taken her custody, into the cavernous depths below the city and the tree. The stories played through her mind as did the cries of the maidens from the top side of the well but she thought herself better, stronger.
An hour. The first sensation of the slime on her wrist cut through her, piercing her like a venomous knife that carved its volatile medicine into her. That was when she knew, that was when she regretted stepping free of her boots. But the hour didn't start then, nor did it start when the slime first crawled down the bottoms of her bound soles. The sensation burned like bursting star-fire and it felt as though she walked on dandelion seeds that constantly exploded against her while at the same time the sucking sensation of the sticky substance clung to her no matter how she struggled. Then her toes dipped into the pool and her eyes blasted open. She threw away her pride then, screaming at the top of her lungs for mercy though she knew she would never receive it.
An hour. After she had submerged to her neck she knew the time had begun, she could feel every single grain in the hourglass, feel it with her entire soul as she laughed, cried and screamed. Each second felt like a life time, a life time spent studying each individual sensation that the slime willed onto her. It felt like pure life rippled into her body, as though the entire world pulsed against her, commanding her to laugh, and she obeyed. She could see and feel each and every other woman that had come before, each one stabbing at her one at a time and weaving their own ticklishness into her. It felt as though she dipped her feet into hellfire, the flames licking up her soles and smiling wickedly at her suffering.
Her sense of the world vanished, but she knew herself then to be a sobbing mess, humbled and humiliated. The entire city listened to her screams through the well, her voice carrying along the streets and into the alleyways. As she walked the streets on that silver-flooded night, too embarrassed to show her face during the day, she felt the onlookers through the candle lit windows and the eyes of the shadowy figures at the edges of the streets. They knew, they knew of her and her weaknesses.
She remembered nothing of the dredging, of her salvation from the pool, but she knew her saviors to be boot-clad women, former victims. Somehow she knew they watched her hungrily, and even now she could sense their voracious appetite as they held her down and scrubbed her clean, returning the slime to the puddle. A shiver rolled down her spine as she felt the haunting melody of the slime's slobbering touch rolling over her body, slurping along her feet and squishing under her toes. The haunting memory of it spilling up her legs and rubbing between her thighs, and the thick ooze clinging across her stomach and rib cage while wiggling beneath and around her breasts and squirming up and down her arms played against her over and over. A shuddering laugh formed in her lips and she brought her arms over her as she cowered in the street, huffing out laughter as the jiggling rhythm played over her body again.
There was a great darkness after, and when she woke in a repurposed cell deep within those forgotten mines she only saw a strand of moonlight resting on her boots. They shifted unevenly, sloshing about as though filled with water. She knew, but her skin ached with an unnatural icy chill and called to her to put them on, that they would protect her. She recalled the thick puddle of the green goop that she had thrust her foot into and how it soothed her aches even though it tickled maddeningly, how it reassured her and welcomed her back. Then she put on the second boot and was at peace with the world, her consciousness melting with the cosmos.
But those times were gone and she was returned to the streets above, to the gaping eyes of those that knew of her plight, their smiling eyes mocking her for her weakness. Drawing in breath after ragged breath, she stalked the streets, rubbing goosebumps off of her arms despite the thick summer air. Her whole body jingled with the music of the underworld, and she could feel its call for her to return in the back of her mind. With bowed head she pressed onward as though she walked in a blizzard, shirking off her pulsing, throbbing body while her feet cried in agony with each step.
At long last she passed the circular town center and she saw the moonlit stockade, the sight of which almost brought her to her knees. It felt as though she were starved of life and that the wooden instrument glowed like an oasis in those shimmer pearlescent rays. She could feel the voice of its promises, and before long she found herself barefoot, her discarded boots missing from sight as the wood clicked shut around her.
The tickling sensations prickled against her bare soles and she laughed endlessly for her crimes as various tormentors passed by, taking their time to hone their craft while they in turn honed her. A ravenous, blinding pleasure oozed through her, sparkling like star-fire as she danced about in the little prison that held her precious feet still for her interrogators. Those shadowy fiends that would ask of her a hundred questions and more, laughing at her inability to withhold her secrets, mocking her for telling them just how to best tickle her: to carefully stroke her arches and swipe at her toes, to dig their fingertips into the centers of her feet and to run their nails over her heels. Again and again she gave herself up, begging to be the personal tickle slave of every one that touched her feet. A deep, burning humiliation rippled within her at her weakness while a supreme satisfaction overwhelmed her at the thought of her former friends taking absolute control over her.
As they dominated her senses, filling her with their personal lust and cruel punishments she pulled herself upward in the stockade, tugging wildly with her legs. The memories played before her countless times, and as they touched her feet she felt their skin morph into the gooey sensation of the slime. Trapped within her dreamworld, she felt herself screaming out sinister laughter as they took advantage of her bound nature, her squirming soles unable to escape their wrath and her body feeble before their touch.
But the play time of the night ended and she was left alone, cold and exhausted while the haunting melody from below whispered in her ears. With all of her skin she could feel the ghostly memories of the slime call for her return, summoning her to rejoin it. As she staggered out of the stockade and into her boots she felt her legs carry her onward, towards one of the shadowy stone archways that dipped into the earth below. Behind her she heard the hard clamor of a brass bell as it clanged at the hour, her heart sinking with each sullen beat as she marched onward.
As she sped down the narrow passage she felt the air grow thick and heavy. Thin strands of green mist snaked through the air and she felt her boots grow heavy with each step. Before long the strands became long tendrils, then thick coiling mists that pawed at her from every angle. Shivering, she felt chains wrap around her heart, pulling her chest ever onward through the darkness until she saw a great emerald light appear below her.
A long bridge spanned before her, and she felt her skin crawl while the soles of her feet chirped wildly. Crossing her arms tightly, she coiled herself together and lowered her head, speeding across the stones and past the haunting glow of the grass colored flames as the need to strip herself of her clothing began to scratch at the back of her mind. Hurrying onward, she saw a shadow move in the central chamber, the pit of torture.
Slowing as she neared the entrance, she stopped for a moment, curling her toes within her boots as her feet screamed for her to move forward. Foggy doubt slipped over her mind like a veil, and she edged her foot back as a flash of white appeared floating before her, then another and another. Spreading their arms apart, the dredgers swayed forward from the shadows, their pale skin breaking through their night colored cloaks.
Over long, grueling instants she heard the crack of their boots against the stones as two approached her, their hoods drawn over their faces so that their eyes remained unseen. They stepped on either side of her and placed a hand each on her backside, ushering her forward. Her own boots carried her too eagerly, and as she entered hot air sprayed over her while the thick mists spilled from the pit. Ahead, she saw the light of the moon glitter down the glistening chain that dipped into the abyss below.
Several other shadows shifted about nervously, their dark fabrics wavering over the tips of black boots. Three women stood by the pit, the hems of their cloaks raised slightly, revealing their very bare feet and their painted nails. The bricks around them shimmered with light, and of the three two stood very still while the toes of the woman to her right twitched, flicked and curled. She shifted about, pressing one foot over the other, a flicker of light shining against her skin and a light colored footprint surrounded by sparkling dampness where she had stood.
She felt the chains around her heart clatter and the fingers of the women that held her shoulders tighten. They pushed ever so lightly and she obeyed, collapsing to her knees. Like candles, a smile flickered onto the face of each woman one at a time, the lips of the barefoot women curling and coiling erratically. Clenching the toes of her topmost foot over the one she stood on, the one barefoot woman wavered then sucked in air, her teeth twitching in the darkness. The hoods of the boot clad women turned towards her, their smiles widening, but then they brushed past the woman and stepped towards her cowering form.
The two women at her own sides traced their fingers down her arms, then wrapped their hands around her wrists, tugging them outward so that her arms formed a upside down v. With several sloshing clicks the boots of the other women approached, two wrapping behind her while two stood in front of her. The skin of her feet buzzed and prattled but she fought off snickering as the women pulled and plucked at her clothing. Hands pressed around her ankles and she felt her boots slide away, the tops of her toes settling against the cool bricks. Immediately she felt naked and helpless, her body drained of her strength with the baring of her soles, her heart skipping along a pond as the same smile the dredgers wore bore itself onto her lips.
Ahead of her the barefoot woman swayed her hips, her toes pointing up and away from the floor. Throwing her head upward, her hood fell away, revealing her golden hair and lovingly carved face as lightning bolted across her eyes. Shrieking wildly, she dug her fingers into her cheeks as she stamped her other foot down, lifting the leg she had stood on before flicking her ankle wildly, casting her foot this way and that. A thick globule of the slime clung to her sole, jiggling as she attempted to cast it off.
Just as the women pulled her shirt from her one stepped away and coddled her arms around the dancing woman's shoulders. The other two barefoot women uneasily stepped towards her, walking on the balls of their feet as they swept around the pit. One slipped a glove over her hand then reached for the slick chain while the others twisted the bucking, laughing woman's backside to the steel. In the blink of an eye her wrists were bound above her, her body secured to the chain before wrapping it around her ankles. They lifted her, they set her over the pit, and then one knelt down, tying a string around both of her big toes before letting the weight drag her feet downward.
Reaching into her sleeve, the dredger's that knelt at her feet cupped the tops of the woman's feet towards her, then withdrew a curious instrument from her garment. Swirling a brush head against the globule that stuck to the shrieking woman's foot, she spun the device to her clean foot and painted a curving insignia into her arch. As the brush swept and crawled against her skin, the woman's jaw dropped and she howled wildly. Releasing the woman's feet, the dredger with the brush stood back while slime oozed down the chains and over the bound woman's wrists. Within several seconds the woman bound to the chain began to sway, causing her body to dip down into the hole, towards the pit.
As the women returned their attention to her, they stripped her of her leggings, baring her body to the quivering darkness. One of the woman solemnly walked past her, her clothes bundled up in her arms with her boots over top. She stepped towards the pit, stopping with each step and drawing her feet together before taking the next, and as she arrived towards the pit she spread her arms away, letting the clothes fall into the sludge below. A distant schlock echoed through the chamber and at once her heart grew wings, a sense of lightness and freedom filling her.
The women stepped before her, fanning out while the two that held her arms brought her wrists together. The women formed a V shape towards her, and the woman that stood directly before her withdrew a length of black cloth. As rope nipped at her wrists, the cloth sped towards her eyes while the other women withdrew their own brushes, curious two handled devices that met at the ends, leaving a gap between the dual handles and the twin brush heads. Darkness wrapped around her eyes, then she felt her ankles pulled back, baring her soles for all to see while rope chomped above her heels, binding them together.
A sudden thrill ran between her toes and she sniffed loudly while string wrapped between her big toes. Helplessness flooded her while a sense of knowledge filled her; her body was a lock that contained her soul and the women before her, the dredgers, were all too familiar with the ways to pick it open regardless of the fact that they had the key. In front of her she heard a sticky splash and then the echoing cries of laughter scale all around her. They would take their time knowing her, understanding and studying her, before allowing her into their ranks.
Before she even had time to test her bonds, to know their limits, she felt her body compelled to do so. As though goosebumps ran over the soles of her feet, sucking it upward, she felt the attack before it happened. The brush, slick with the forbidden tree sap, scraped over her from the ball of her foot to the outer edge of her heel. Dropping her jaw, she screamed in agony, twisting her head and writhing in place as she tugged at her wrists and twisted her ankles back and forth. A second passed and the sensation subsided, brushed away by a sickly sweet sensation.
Dropping her head forward, she gasped and gulped in air, her hair falling around her cheeks as she recalled the look of the brushes. Her mental image was shattered by a second swirl that crept over the heel of her other foot before swinging up the outside, curling inward and under the ball. Again she screamed loudly, her voice tearing at her throat as she spilled it over the bricks below her. Within seconds she was silent, her calls echoing upward, mirroring the the cries of the maiden whose feet sat submerged in her undoing.
As she clenched her toes, feeling them collapse in a wave, she felt the wrinkles of her soles course over her very clean bare feet. The chains around her heart turned an icy-obsidian as the fangs of dread set into the back of her neck, and for several long seconds she saw the image of the brushes again as she squirmed her feet back and forth on the bricks. As she lay, the otherworldly sensations still prickling at her feet, she huffed out several strained hee-hee-hee's while she focused on the memory of the dual brush heads. Clutching her hands into fists, she inhaled heavily as she understood the initiation: only one brush was dipped into the terrible substance. She would feel the slime, understand it, appreciate it. They would let her sample it for a moment and then clean it away so that she could remain lucid, so that she could comprehend the fullness of the torture.
She recalled the many times she had passed the well in her former life, above the ground, and how there was always someone screaming below, begging, pleading, confessing their sins. She heard their voices again, and she remembered wondering how many people committed crimes to hear them scream day after day, but then she realized that the voice would remain static for weeks, months, and she wondered at what crimes the accused had committed. She felt her own confessions bubbling along her tongue while tears well up in her eyes as they let her languish for several long moments, the sobs of joy choking in her throat.
For long minutes she waited, sitting there there, crying for her former self, crying for her defenseless bare feet, wondering if they would ever return to her. Still, as the minutes dragged on, only the crazed cries of the bound maiden remained, her body overwhelmed by the pit consuming her wicked nature. She sat there, curling her toes, spreading them apart, wondering how long they would leave her before the assault began. Sweat beaded up all over her body, a drop spiraling down her nose as the heat of desire throbbed within her. She felt the longing, she felt the pool below calling to her, and she could distantly sense the slime fixed to the brushes as the women stood around her, waiting for her. She shut her jaw, gulped and nodded, immediately feeling the cosmic starlight of the slime set in around her.
She shrieked, she screamed, she laughed. The strokes were soft and sudden, quick to crash into her then rise away, yet falling in perfect rhythm so that the instant one ended another began. The attacks came from all sides, streaking along a foot and then up a leg, across her torso or under a breast, down her arms or inside of her navel. Through the darkness it felt as though a ghost taunted her, disappearing and reappearing with its wicked weapon.
The touch was so soft, so supple and so wonderful: it felt like icicles dripped across her then vanished immediately, but her body remembered. Her whole body pulsed and throbbed with the forbidden starlight they imbued her with. Yet despite the damp, caring kisses they imprinted into her, the slime cut through her, piercing deep to the core of her being and filling her with a gem-like radiance, and before she even became aware of the crevice it was stitched shut, the sensation forever buried beneath her skin. Even after the slime left her skin continued to tingle.
Thrashing back and forth she attempted to rip herself free, to fall forward, to cover or protect herself in some way, but she was laid bare before them. Her feet could wiggle back and forth but she couldn't cover them, her arms could sway up and down but she couldn't pull them away. Her legs, trapped beneath her body, felt the brunt of the attack and her shoulders and neck were left as defenseless. Then they started moving two at a time, encircling her breasts over and over, drawing tiny circles under them before swiping suddenly upward and across her nipples.
At the same time they toiled over her feet, tending to them with great love and adoration. Her toes had been fully painted several times over, and she sensed every wrinkle, every indent in her foot throbbing with their love. Several outlines wrapped around her feet, dipping into her arches, sometimes around the outer edge of her heels and balls and sometimes around the inner. Great streaks marred the centers of her soles as they ensured those crevices suffered greatly for their beauty.
She begged, over and over, her body incapable of handling the wicked light that shook within her, but still they continued. She confessed to everything she could think of, every crime she had committed or imagined committing, everything that had ever been done. Then they asked her where it tickled most, and where to tickle her next, and this too, she bargained away. She felt her grip on reality begin to slip, and they slowed, ensuring that she would remain fully conscious of what they inflicted onto her before speeding up again.
Before long her whole body shook and shivered with the pent up bliss and happiness that they infused her with, and soon after they added a third continuous attack to her inner thighs. Her mind flit back and forth between her feet, her breasts and her thighs, unable to track the beginning and ending of the sensations. Every now and then she felt the waning light of the laughter inducing medicine nip at her ears and neck, down her elbows or on the back of her calves. Then, as one claimed her navel for perhaps the hundredth time there was silence save her echoing cries and the pleading for mercy of the maiden in the pit.
Seconds passed, boots shuffled and cloth swished. She twisted her head about as she scoured the darkness, her damp hair clinging to her face and her heart slamming into her chest as she gasped for air, her body trembling with their will. In the quiet darkness she felt a wet dot press into the center of her back, and then a second and a third. Collapsing forward, she fell into something soft as they marked her back with four, then five streaks, their snail like trails vanishing as soon as they appeared. Alternating her hips, she shifted her ankles back and forth as she endured the trial, her tears soaking the blindfold as she wept profusely.
The warmth she lay against pushed into her and she felt herself set upright as the siren's kiss landed against her big toe, then down the stem and into her arch. A second claimed her other foot, and she shrieked while the dampness left her back and returned to her breasts and thighs. Now the brushes moved as one, stroking her in the same patterns so that her mind lit up like a treasure map formed of the constellations. Her laughter fell and she inhaled wildly, moaning loudly, feeling her body take on a golden aura before the light within her burst outward.
Still they continued, their attacks greedier than before as she gasped and howled, her body no longer capable of registering the ticklishness she endured. She felt herself fall forward and she knew her body coiled together, tucking her knees up into her stomach, but even then they fell onto her feet, coating them over and over with their affection, permanently scarring her soles with their love while she fell deeper into the blissful void.
Before she knew it she awoke from the dream, her body laying their, abused and defeated, her limbs so heavy she could barely lift them. Lift them she did, and she felt the rope slip away from her wrists, then her ankles as she shuffled them. Pushing herself up, she sat upon her knees and withdrew the blindfold from her eyes, blinking into the quiet and vacant darkness. Just ahead of her, a robe of sooty black lay folded into a serene square. As her eyes lay upon it a ray of sunlight sparked off the chain before her and she flinched, shielding herself from the blinding daylight.
Blinking several times, her eyes adjusted and she felt her feet force her upright before staggering forward. No, she thought as she approached the chain and wrapped her ankles to it. The voice of the slime scratch warmly at the back of her ears, beseech with her to join it. As she secured her wrists to the chain, she felt her mind beg and plead with her, but only a sinister smile responded to it. Finally fastened to the devil's chain, she stepped off the platform, feeling the slime ooze down her fingers and over her wrists. The biting, gnawing sensations began again, and she began inhaling rapidly as the drops trickled downward. Around her the world rose and she felt her weight pull her down. The heavy green substance clung to the back of her calves, dripping down and dangling over her ankles. Rotating her feet she felt a wicked chuckle escape her lips as she looked at the pool of slime below.
